God Knows You're Built For Sin
by ReveredRaven
Summary: Castiel Novak has to deal with the consequences of his childhood curiosities when a demon comes to cash in what he considers to be a rightful claim. He isn't the only one having to deal with the repercussions of his past naivety, when his friends end up getting dragged along into the demon's games. (Inspired by The Forbidden Games) (Destiel-fic)


_**Disclaimer : I do not own any of the characters featured in this story, besides maybe an occasional OC. Rights to the show Supernatural! Additional ownership goes to L.J Smith and her The Forbidden Game trilogy. **_

_**Writer: NotoriousArchangel **_

_**Summary: AU. Castiel Novak has to deal with the consequences of his childhood curiosities when a demon comes to cash in what he considers to be a rightful claim. He isn't the only one having to deal with the repercussions of his past naivety, when his friends end up getting dragged along into the demon's games.**_

_**Warnings: So, yeah, SPN and TFG canon divergence. Violence, adult language, homosexual couplings, fairly likely sexual situations with dubious consent, torture, death, and other mature situations will be recurring scenes. Lots of physical, mental, and emotional torture. Dean's quite the asshole. If you feel you won't like anything along the lines of that, I suggest leaving now. Better for both of us. But if you do decide to stick around...I hope you enjoy, or at least give it a chance. Thanks!**_

_**Main Recurring Pairings: Destiel. Sam/Ruby. Maybe Sabriel? I'd like to do it...depends on where I exactly I take the story.**_

_**Extra: Yeah, I'm supposed to be writing for CS, which I am, believe me, but I really wanted to do this one too, soooo...here we are. So, for future note, the demons in this are going to be different in some ways to the ones in SPN. **_

_"Say so long to innocence, from underneath the evidence, you taste like Heaven, but God knows you're built for sin, you're built for sin"_

**_-Built For Sin by Framing Hanley_**

It was rather easy to understand what led to the young child's actions. Even the most obedient, good-natured children were to have an inevitable slip-up or two. How was this particular child to know that his would have severely more dire consequences than a simple timeout?

Castiel tried. He really did. He tried oh-so very hard to resist clambering down those old wooden steps to the basement. But the allure of the mild darkness, the relentless desire to quash his curiosity; it all came down to be too much. So thus started his timid journey downwards. Each step he tread across brought a different warning his Uncle Chuck would tell him about the basement to mind. There were so many, and yet, all of them had the same message. But Castiel was only a child, and henceforth, could not truly understand the severity of what was down below. Why he should have deployed more self-control. It was something he'd regret deeply in years to come.

When the dark-haired nine-year-old reached the last step, he hesitated only a moment before leaving that as well and stepping down to the cool concrete of the basement floor. He was barefoot, clad in only a billowy sleepshirt and pajama bottoms. He'd woken up earlier than his uncle, as to not have an interference of any sort in his exploration.

The boy looked around with wide eyes, but an expression that was otherwise impassive, not noticing anything of interest. Except...the strange, ridiculously over-sized vault of sorts. He figured it was a gun vault, if the gun sticking out from it was any indication. Chuck tended to have other men who toted around such objects around over to the house, so he wasn't really surprised that his uncle would have a few of his own.

While he assumed he knew what was inside, his inquisitiveness was not quelled. He felt oddly pulled to the non-suspicious vault. And since he figured denying himself his inner desires would be pointless at the moment, he moved forward slowly until he reached the vault and could easily attempt opening it.

With a thoughtful head-tilt, a soft hum of rapt thrummed it's way from his throat while he examined the object of his attention. From its simple dynamic, he figured that turning the protruding gun would open the vault. He found that really odd, but not to where he wanted to waste time questioning it. So extending a small hand towards the gun, he twisted it only slightly at first, barely moving it. He huffed at his own timidness when nothing happened, giving it another turn. Apparently drawn into a lull of confidence by the lack of result of what he was doing, he turned it once more. And again. And again. And again. Until it suddenly became difficult to keep a grip on the weapon. In his confusion, he released the gun, but it did not cease in its turning. It twisted on it's own, small, rusty squeaks coming from the vault as it did so.

Startled, Castiel moved to try turning it in the opposite direction, but instead moved back when his hand was met with a gun that was now sweltering. He frowned in confusion and fear. What was going on? "Uncle Chuck!" He didn't want his uncle to see him down here, but he was scared enough to push his desire to avoid a punishment aside. "Uncle Chuck!" he called once more.

It took him a moment to realize the squeaking had stopped, and when he glanced over, the gun had also stopped moving with an eerie click.

He barely had a second to step back before the door of the excessively sized vault blew open. Gusts of hot air burst out, obviously having been contained. The extreme force of the winds forced him to stumble back slightly, his cheeks flushing. He had a small struggle to breathe. His eyes slit to meagerly protect himself from the onslaught of rushed heat, his eyes beginning to tear from how quickly they were drying. He began blinking rapidly.

"Castiel!"

The boy turned around quickly, only to see his uncle rushing down the stairs.

"What did you do?!" His uncle grabbed his forearm roughly, yanking him back, eyes filled with panic. A distinguished growl came from the direction of the vault now, dying in the midst of softer noises. Some were more animalistic than others, and some were less than whispers. "No, no, no, no..."

Wispy tendrils of smoke began ebbing their way out of the vault before Castiel's uncle could even begin closing the door. The smoke lowered itself, stretching across the floor in a manner that was almost languid. It made Castiel shudder. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the vault now, couldn't distract himself from the wild chitterings of delight of the smoky figures, could not move back. He was transfixed.

Faintly, the boy was aware of his uncle screaming something about not taking him at the things of the vault. However, despite the man's earnest pleads, the noises of the creatures picked up at that. Their increase in volume did not phase him in the slightest in comparison to the actual voice that spoke up.

"I want him." The voice was broken by inhumane noises in between each word. But the meaning was clear, as it was beyond blatant that the smoky figure was not speaking of his uncle.

Noises that he thought could possibly be amused broke out among them all. "Ah, the young," one of the other figures said, his words less broken.

"I want him," that cracked voice spoke again, more...annoyed now, that emotion most likely being caused by the fact he was brushed off the first time he had declared his desires. It sent shivers down Castiel's spine, despite the overbearing heat of the room.

"Silence. We will take what provides more sustenance and entertainment," another less broken voice cut off the other. A low growl echoed through the room again, but nothing else was heard afterwords. The issue was clearly decided.

So before Castiel could do anything to prevent such a thing, the tendrils of smoke and shadows reached out and snaked themselves around his uncle's throat, pulling him forward. Slow, teasing jerks brought the older male forward, towards the looming entrance of the vault. How foolish Castiel felt now to have assumed it was for weaponry. He shook his head in disbelief as his uncle was quickly being engulfed into shadows. This is when a switch of sorts finally went off in his mind. He rushed forward, intending to grasp his uncle's arm and pull him back. He was too late, however. The vault door slammed shut, the gun twisting itself once more.

Then all was silent. In his shocked mind, Castiel considered the possibility that none of that had just transpired; it had all just been a part of his mind. But Castiel was never one to have an overactive imagination, and even if, he couldn't have imagined the sticky heat settling itself lower to the room, and the bruises of a firm grip that had been on his arm.

He was so consumed with his inner mind that he didn't notice that one of the shadows didn't slip away with the others when they had dragged off his uncle. Instead, he had slipped out, easily blending in with the dark atmosphere of the basement, easily watching the boy in enraptured silence with no need to fret over being seen.

The demon, the shadow, the smoke, figured he'd stay a while.

* * *

_**A/N: Short, I know, but my first chapters always are. :/ Reviews, please? Thanks :)**_


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